The Dry Spell
by Ragtime Mouse
Summary: He finally convinces her to watch Fleet and Flotilla with him. Oblivious Quarian/Hopeful Turian. Rated M for mature content.


**Author's Note: **THERE IS A SPECIAL HELL FOR ME

This is a naughty fic. So. Be aware. That it is naughty. And don't read it if you're not prepared for the naughty. An alternate title for this fic could be, "The Real Reason I Updated Shasta Trinity So Late" because… well, it is.

Anyway, it concerns the turian and quarian that can bee seen sitting together chatting outside of Eternity on Illium. I blame part of this on Anonymous, and the rest of it on Bioware, and take no responsibility for any brain damage suffered as a result of this fic.

Thank you and have a good day.

Sometimes an individual finds himself in the uncomfortable situation of getting exactly what he wants, only to discover that he hasn't planned much farther beyond his eventual victory.

The young turian had spent all afternoon running over the things he would say. He had to be suave tonight. He had to be absolutely enrapturing (he had even narrowed it down to that specific phrase). He had to show her that what she'd been looking for, all this time, was right here under her nose (and he knew that she _had_ a nose, because he could see its faint outline under the tinted curve of her helmet's visor) all along.

He had _Fleet and Flotilla_ downloaded onto his Omni-tool, ready to stream directly to a vidscreen. He'd even opted the few extra credits for the higher framerate version. This had to go perfectly. It was now or never, do or die, sink or swim! He had entertained the idea of giving her flowers, but that seemed crass. She couldn't smell them, or even properly even see them behind that helmet. Likewise, he couldn't have cooked her a meal and brought it over. Away from the Flotilla, all she had was food paste.

Too late, he'd thought of perhaps looking into a local turian restaurant to see if they did any specially purified orders. He would save that for next time, if there was a next time.

_There_ has _to be a next time,_ he assured himself as he waved his hand over the holographic door-chime display.

He steeled himself. He was a turian. He was not afraid of something as simple as an almost-but-not-quite date. He was going to tackle this with dignity, reserve, and charm, and he couldn't possibly fail.

She opened the door, looking much the same as she always had, and said, brightly, "Hi!"

"Nghrn," he replied intelligently. She pulled him inside. Her quarters were predictably rather spartan. It would make sense not to keep clutter around when everything needed to stay sterile in case of an emergency. He noted, with amusement, that there was a small fish tank set into the wall, with a pair of Illium Skald fish drifting serenely through the water. "This is nice," he said, mentally kicking himself for his unoriginality. "Nice" did not scream, "absolutely enrapturing."

"Thanks. I mean, I know it's not the greatest. It's kind of small, but what can you do?" she replied in her characteristic flippant manner. He loved how she talked like that. Like everything was some kind of big game that she was in on. She never got down, no matter what. It made him so angry when such a cheerful, resilient person was treated with such insensitivity, as she often was. "Like I said, kind of small, but totally worth it for the view." He politely looked in the direction she was indicating, where a modest-sized window overlooked the glittering spires of Illium.

The city stretched away, sheathed in a half-formed mist of approaching dusk, scattered with the gemlike lights of passing cars, distant twinkling windows, and a thousand other unnamed sources. It was beautiful, but he would really rather look at her, so he turned away from the vista and did. To his surprise, she had drawn up next to him quite silently. The light was reflecting off her helmet. He thought it was very charming. He wanted to tell her. Instead, he said, "Yeah."

"So! You brought that vid that you were _dying_ to have me see?" Without waiting for a response, she turned and trotted over to where a modest sofa was arrayed in front of her vidscreen.

He followed, and his Omni-tool flickered to life. "Yes! The good version, too." He hesitated, and then, in a fit of courage, rather suddenly sat down next to her. The couch was comfortable, but a little small-not that he minded, of course. He simply sat there, feeling that same anxiety welling up again. You finally have what you want, and you have no idea what to do with it…

"Weeeell?" She cocked her head. "Are we going to watch it, or are you going to stare at my fish?"

He glanced to the fish tank again. "Well. They _are_ pretty nice fish." He inwardly cringed at his attempt at a joke.

She laughed. "I bought them when I saw this apartment had a built-in aquarium as a little housewarming gift to myself. Chais and Elenor." For a moment the two just watched their piscine companions float back and forth. Then the young quarian nudged him. "You really _are_ going to watch them, aren't you?"

"Oh. Uh." In lieu of an intelligent response, he triggered the data transfer. "Here we go."

She used her own Omni-tool to dim the lights. As the loading screen briefly flashed, she whispered, as if she were in the theater, "You hungry? I told that bartender at Eternity that I was having you over and she lent me some of those nuts she keeps at the bar."

The fact that she had mentioned this to someone else somewhat bolstered the young turian's resolve. It was important enough for her to go and… and ask strange asari for snacks! Surely that meant _something_. "Thanks, but not right now. I ate before I came here." By then the screen was had shifted to the opening title, and he fell quiet.

It was a genuinely good film, so it didn't take him long to get into it. It had already won several awards, and there were even rumors that it was going to be nominated for the Foreign Film portion of the human Academy Awards. That was apparently prestigious, as no film comprised entirely of alien actors had ever won. _Fleet and Flotilla_ would be the first.

He could see that she was paying attention, too. She fidgeted during the first action scenes, and his mandibles silently flared in amusement. Sometimes she could be silly, but she had a streak of spunk in her that he found utterly endearing. He knew she'd like this movie, and not just for the… subliminal messages. He saw the faint outline of her slanted eyes widening during the first ship-to-ship battle. "I told you the special effects were amazing," he muttered, leaning over, half to share his thoughts, and half just to be a little closer to her. She nodded silently in response.

As the film progressed, she looked to him. "They used real quarian actors," she whispered, sounding amazed.

"Yeah. The film critics made a huge deal about it. I mean, it _is_ great," the turian amended, "but not just so the director can stay PC. If you have a _real_ person standing there, someone in front of you that you can… that you can _connect_ with, it just makes all the scenes mean more, you know?"

"A lot of big-budget films these days just CGI quarians in," she replied.

"That ruins it." He shook his head. "There's no chemistry that way! No tension!"

They fell silent again until the first love scene. It was the stuff of teenaged girl fantasy. The hero of the story, a dashing turian private, had just held his finger to the front of his female lead's mask to stop her speaking, and then taken both of her hands in his own. They gazed into each other's eyes. The backdrop of a dark and beautiful alien night set the stage around them, lit gently by the dual glow of twin moons suspended high overhead.

"When will I see you again?" The quarian on-screen asked breathlessly.

The young turian was so caught up in the scene that he was startled when he felt his female companion nudge him. "Tension, hmmm?" She asked playfully.

His mandibles drew tight against the sides of his face in embarrassment. "Well, it _is_ romantic."

She nodded and turned her attention to the screen. "Yeah."

The couple in the film had fallen silent, accompanied by a swell of romantic music (recognizably the ethereal strains of the hanar Light-Snare, an instrument comprised of ninety physical strings and ten infrared ones that responded to the same organs responsible for hanar bioluminescence). The turian private reached up, gently cupping the back of his quarian beau's helmet, and guided her to him, touching his forehead against the smooth curved swell of her visor.

Back on the sofa, the young turian glanced sideways to see his quarian companion watching raptly. He swallowed hopefully.

They were quiet for a long time after that, caught in the film's climactic plot. Towards the end, just before the final battle ripped across the screen, he heard her say, "You know, I could draw a lot of conclusions as to _why_ you wanted me to see this film so bad."

He blinked and shrugged. Every cell in his body was screaming at him to do something more, _say_ something more, but he remained silent, unable to think of anything more intelligent or witty to say than, "durr," which he did not think would properly woo her. It was at about this point that he began to lose hope. How was anything supposed to happen if he couldn't even talk to her? He managed to wrangle his mouth into spitting out, "It's a good movie."

"It is," she replied. When he didn't say anything, she tilted her head. When he looked away, she took a deep breath and went on, "Keelah, what do I have to do to get through to you? Crawl into your _lap_?"

He turned and stared at her.

"Because I will."

"Wait, I-" Never in his life had the young turian thought he would say "wait" if she ever offered to crawl into his lap, but here he was, and so he did, and then he suddenly had a lapful of wriggling quarian to contend with. She sat heavily on him, and he just stared, stunned both by her actions and how strange her warm, alien softness felt resting on him like that. He swallowed. Behind her, the screen began to flicker and flash with expensively rendered explosions.

"Did it never occur to you that I might be teasing you?" She went on. She sounded slightly exasperated, but as always, her tone was edged with cheer. "I offered. To show you. My nerve-stimulation program. In public." She cocked her head. "Do turians _not flirt_ or something?"

"I-I just… I mean, you were always going out with all these other guys," he babbled, not at all charming, not at all absolutely enrapturing, not at all anything but a flustered and confused turian idiot, but he couldn't stop himself. "I mean, sometimes it felt like I was the only guy on Illium who wasn't-" Shit, that was the wrong thing to say! Emergency brakes!

"Oh, really?"

"That's not what I meant," he sighed miserably. Then, to his relief, she laughed. Almost as soon as he realized that she was laughing at him, his relief turned into indignity. "Well. I mean." He didn't know what he meant, so he just blinked in mute helplessness at her.

"In case you haven't noticed, I haven't dated anyone since we had that conversation. You know, the one where that weird human was staring at us?"

He blinked and tried to dredge up his memory. "You said you were going to give it up for a while."

"Well, I figured out I gave up dating other guys for a _reason_," she explained patiently, cocking her head. He stared at her, meeting her eyes through her helmet, and she went on, "I was hoping you'd figure that out, too. Sometime before, you know, the next century or something."

The young turian was trying to reconcile his expectations with reality. He'd come tonight with the hopes of maybe possibly starting something like a romance with his quarian friend. Somehow, she had ended up in his lap making a very obvious pass at him, and maybe something even more than a pass, but a full-on stop, followed by a parallel park.

He opened his mouth, but no words came out for a long time. Then he just said, "I…" And, overjoyed, he embraced her. She returned the gesture as far as she was able, and considering the way she was straddling him, the embrace turned what should have been an innocent gesture into something much more intimate. He didn't immediately notice until he felt her stirring a little, and heard her muffled laugh.

"Getting a little ahead of yourself, huh?"

Mortified, he pulled away, and she cocked her head. "Sorry. I mean-I know how all those other guys treat you, but I don't want-I'm not-"

She reached up with one finger, stilling his mouth with it, unconsciously mimicking the dashing turian private they'd seen on the vid screen earlier that evening. "Maybe," she said with a smile in her voice, "you should get ahead of yourself more often."

What could he say to an invitation like that? Perhaps the truth would be most prudent. "Well… I'd like to, but we have to be safe about it," he replied sincerely, "I just-you know. I don't want you to get sick or anything."

Apparently it had been the right thing to say, because he could tell by the way her eyes squinted that she was smiling. "I wish _all_ the guys were able to say that when I'm sitting in their lap." She fell quiet for a moment, but didn't move, aside to let her hand drop to his chest. It was an oddly comfortable way to sit, and the bizarre intimacy of the situation filled the young turian with warmth. He was brave enough to admit to himself that she was special to him. On the heels of that romantic thought, he heard her say, "So, since I never got to show you those nerve stimulators…"

He cocked his head, humor lighting in his normally-fierce expression. "That's right. You didn't, did you?"

She leaned back a little, but did not relinquish control of his lap. "Well. As I was saying, before we were so rudely interrupted last time, sometimes quarians are away on their Pilgrimages for years."

"Like you." _Ouch, _no, why did he have to remind himself of that? Talking about her Pilgrimage only made him realize that she would have to leave someday. He buried the thought and tried to focus on the task at hand. Considering where all the blood in his body was currently rushing, it wasn't difficult.

"As I was _saying_," she went on, "You know, adults-or adults-in-the-making-have urges. Sometimes we need to take care of them, and it's not exactly safe to just take off your suit and just go to town. So we found a way to take care of those natural, biological urges in our suits. Simple as that."

"What's it like?" The question actually happened to be innocent curiosity.

"Let me show you." The response was obviously the machination of a coy quarian vixen. She sat back enough to pull her Omni-tool up, and typed briefly. "Let's see… you're supposed to start off slow. It takes a while to warm up. Nerves are all fine, well, and good, but if you want to do it right, you need _blood flow_."

The young turian was wondering if this constituted for quarian dirty talk. Even if it wasn't, it was working for him.

"So you start off-" And she jumped, and the turian jumped with her, because he could feel the faint buzz even through the layer of her suit. "Slow. Like that."

He cocked his head. "What's going on?"

"It's just sort of… warm, and it hums, right here," She leaned back and ran her three-fingered hands over her inner thighs. The playfully suggestive gesture twisted the turian's insides with desire. "Nothing heavy yet. Gotta get warmed up."

He raised his hands and looked to her, questioningly-permission to touch? She laughed, and behind her the vid screen blazed with an impractically large, but cinematically impressive, explosion. She grabbed his wrists and put them on her hips.

Permission granted. He took his time exploring her form, since she had expressed a desire to do this slowly. The texture of her suit wasn't as satisfying as he imagined feeling her warm, unburdened skin would be, but he was still having trouble believing that any of this was happening, so his stunned mind happily made do with what he received. She slowly relaxed under the touches, leaning against his fingers every now and then.

He explored the plush curves of her body, marveling at the alien shape of her, something he'd admired for a long, long time but had just about given up all hope of actually touching-and then he heard her breath hitch and he looked up to her. "Oh shit-I didn't-did I claw you?"

She laughed, and the sound was a little breathy. It was strange to hear her familiar voice changed like that. He didn't know what to think of it. "No, it's just-here." She took his wrists again and placed them firmly on the soft, fleshy pad of her inner thighs. He could feel the suit humming, vibrating faintly beneath his fingers. "It starts there, and it's moving…" She pulled his hands up, closer to the junction of her thigh, and he felt the vibration growing stronger as his hands drew higher… "Oh, _Keelah_…"

"It really feels that good?" He murmured.

"Yes-_yes_!" She squeaked, jerking against him as the program apparently ratcheted up the intensity. He knew her voice. The sound of it echoed in his brain and the halls of his lonely heart, but he'd never, _never _heard her sound like this. That odd moment that had first occurred when he heard it had reconciled itself into pure lust. He needed to hear her. His body was already priming itself to go, and he wasn't sure what he was going to do about his own biological needs, but he'd worry about that after he made her squeal his name a few times.

The last of his awkwardness finally evaporated. He raked his eyes over her body. Her pillowed chest was heaving unevenly as tiny sparks of pleasure made her gasp sharply, throwing off any chance she had of a rhythm. Her limber form was writhing slowly, too full of restless pleasure to keep still. The serpentine motions were wholly alien and unbelievably arousing. He let his hands wander over her freely, without abandon, and he murmured, "And you were going to do this in _public_?"

She tried to laugh, but it ended in a long, drawn out sigh, and she reached for his shoulders suddenly, her fingers clamping down. "Well," she managed to reply, "if it would get you to-to notice…"

"Oh, I would have noticed," he laughed. He shifted position on the couch slightly, "But I don't know if I'd have been able to keep my hands off you." The hum from her stimulator was audible now, and a low moan from her assured him that his words were having effect. He leaned forward, murmuring directly into her helmet's aural receptor. "I would have knocked over that table, grabbed you, maybe bent you over the bar…"

She shuddered, much to his pleasure, at his dirty talk, and he decided to persist. "And everyone on Illium would have watched me fuck you." He squeezed her buttock to emphasize the word, and was rewarded with a sharp cry of surprise mingled with pleasure. "Right there in the open, where nobody would have any doubt…" His low, double-toned voice dropped to a possessive growl, "That you were _mine._"

"Keelah," she whimpered. She had begun to instinctively roll her hips. He was aching for her, but despite his risqué choice of fantasy, he had no intention of doing anything that might even remotely compromise her health. She was more to him than a night of pleasure. He swallowed thickly, caught between lust and an emotion unfathomably more powerful.

"I've wanted you so long," he crooned. He began to rock his hips up against hers in counterpoint, and the slight gesture sent her into a wild frenzy of bucking. The suit was buzzing now, a lewd, audible sound, but she was drowning it out with her increasingly loud whimpers, which were turning into full-throated moans even as he spoke. "I waited for you so long. No-one else, there's been _no-one else_, not since I first wanted you."

She ground her hips down against him roughly, as if vainly seeking to join with him more intimately. Her frantic gyrations were causing a wonderful friction against his groin, but it wasn't enough, it wasn't nearly enough, and even he was shocked how much he didn't care because now she was wailing, and he heard his name in her throat.

_Fuck_ if that wasn't the damned hottest thing he'd ever heard in his life. Her normally cheerful, playful tone low and hoarse, his name mangled by the way her voice cracked when he pushed her forcefully against him, shivering at the pressure and the low hum of her suit as it pressed against him. "Just like this," he kept rasping, over and over, knowing how close she was and loving it, "Come on, just like this, baby."

Neither of them bothered to notice the events on the forgotten vid screen behind them. The hero and the villain had met at last, and were clashing in a final showdown lauded by the tempestuous crescendo of the soundtrack.

She looked up, and he could just barely make out the way her eyes were half-hooded and glazed with intense pleasure beneath her visor, and she was staring directly into his eyes, and he shivered in that split second of calm before she writhed and wailed again, her back arching to a degree he hadn't previously thought possible as her envirosuit electronically fucked her to completion.

She jerked and shivered in the aftershocks, soft, almost surprised sounds of pleasure escaping her, before she collapsed limp against him. He could feel her heart thudding all the way through the layers of her suit, his clothing, and his body's natural armor. The sound of her trying to catch her breath through her helmet was oddly gratifying, even if it was a machine that had done this to her, and not him directly. It was his name she'd whimpered, his eyes she'd met when she came, and that was what mattered.

A low, happy thrum worked its way up from his chest into his throat as he settled back with her resting limply on top of him. She stiffened for a moment, but quickly relaxed. "Huh. I didn't know turians did that."

"Only when we're very, very, _very_ happy," he assured her. She sat up at those words and looked at him. His gaze was still razor-sharp, and he was fully extended and still rock-hard beneath her, he knew she could probably feel the difference in the texture of his lap-but she held his eyes with her own for a few moments, watching him through the mélange of warm golden pleasure that had descended over her, before she leaned over and gently touched the curve of her helmet against his forehead.

His heart leapt. He pushed back eagerly, almost knocking her off his lap in his enthusiasm. Her hands tightened around his neck when she feared she would lose her balance, and they both chuckled a little once they had settled. He closed his eyes happily. Behind her, the heroine was sinking into the embrace of the dashing turian officer, and the last sweet strains of their theme faded even as the image did to advent the end of the film.

"I am very glad you came over tonight." She said quietly, with amused decisiveness. "But I think we might have a little problem here." She slowly eased off his lap, and he didn't know why he found the way her sex-weakened legs wobbled unsteadily so damn attractive, but he did. "Well. Not _little_." She laughed as her hand ghosted over his lap to the latch of his trousers.

"Wait just a second," he sat up. "I mean-not that I don't want you, to, uh, I just… be careful, okay? Don't do anything that's going to, you know…"

"What happened to screwing me on top of the bar at Eternity?" She cocked her head coyly. He looked a little embarrassed, which only turned her amused expression into a full-fledged laugh. "Look, it's okay, don't worry. I'm a quarian! We have to be able to get creative. And you, good sir, will find…" She unlatched the young turian's trousers and began to briskly yank them down, looking up to him with a vaguely mischievous expression beneath her helmet. "That I can be _very_ creative."

The credits rolled.


End file.
